Tag: Sooty Shearwater

Orange County Pelagic Trip

We found several rafts of hundreds of Pink-footed Shearwaters

Orange County Pelagic Trip 

When you sign up for a 10-hour boat ride to see ocean birds, you accept the possibility that many of those hours will be spent looking at nothing but water in every direction. Or that you’ll be fogged in with less than 100 feet of visibility. Or that the waves will be rough enough to make everything unpleasant. In exchange for those possibilities, however, you get the chance to see birds you will not ever see from land.  Some species are expected. Others are gifts of chance, materializing when your boat just happens to cross paths with the wanderings of a bird on an infinitesimally small and completely unpredictable point on the earth’s vast oceans.

Pelagic birding is the last frontier of birding on the planet. The distribution of the birds of the world’s basins, beaches, bogs, jungles, hills, mountains, deserts, plains, plateaus, agricultural fields, forests, lakes, marshes, mesas, valleys, volcanos, creeks, capes and canyons are well known. The birds of the oceans remain comparatively mysterious. We have a sense of what’s out generally there, and where they breed. But many ocean birds spend their lives cruising widely, pushed here and there by wind and storm, and the shifting location of their food.

I recently took a boat ride with a few dozen birders out of Dana Point, California. The plan was to spend the day primarily in relatively nearshore Orange County waters. We visited spots with names like Crespi Knoll, the Lausen Sea Mount, the 279-fathom Bank, and the Catalina Ridge. At most, I think we were 25 miles off-shore. The day started with big flocks of Pink-footed Shearwaters and smaller numbers of Black-vented Shearwaters. The Black-vented Shearwaters are expected near-shore birds, sometimes occurring in massive winter flocks. The Pink-footed Shearwaters were a surprise. They normally are found only in small numbers off southern California. The hundreds we were seeing were unusual.

The first good rare find on the boat was a South Polar Skua sitting on the water about 10 miles out. Skua are bulky bullies of the oceans, chasing gulls and shearwaters and boobies, forcing them to drop fish they’ve caught. They breed on the coast of Antartica, and can be found in any ocean. I’d seen a pair of South Polar Skuas on a Maine whalewatching boat. This bird was my first for California. In the same area were a few Pomarine Jeagers. Similar to skuas, but not as large, they “hunt” at sea by stealing fish from other birds. During breeding on arctic tundra, they feed on lemmings.

After this excitement, a few hours of mostly nothing followed. Besides a big flock of Black Storm-Petrels, it was pretty empty out there. At 2:30pm, the boat turned back in the direction of Dana Point. Things had been dragging since 10am, and spirits were somewhat down despite the South Polar Skua from the morning. But I hadn’t lost my optimism. I yelled out for folks to keep their eyes out, confident there was at least one more good bird to find before we made it back to harbor. 

A little after 3pm, our great trip leader, Tom Benson, yelled out “Red-billed Tropicbird!!” Out ahead of the boat, a white bird had lifted off the ocean and thankfully turned to fly toward the boat. It made a fly-by along the port side, giving great views. These are beautiful birds rarely seen from land, and not often seen in nearshore southern California waters. They’ve got a dark red bill, sharp black markings on the face, back, and wings, and long tail feathers. This was a lifer for me.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Tom was at it again. This time, he screamed out “Flesh-footed Shearwater!” This was a rarer bird than either the skua or the tropicbird. And it would be another lifer if I could get my eyes on it. They’re the same size and shape as the Pink-footed Shearwaters it was amongst. The key distinguishing feature is an all dark brown body. It took me some time to find it on the water, but I did. Seconds later, it flew directly away from the boat. I got one picture that I think is the bird, but you can’t tell. Two lifers on the last leg of the trip was a nice finish to the day.

It wasn’t just birds out there. We also saw a Humpback Whale, a few Fin Whales, dolphins, a mola mola, a flying fish, and multiple dragonflies during the day. Given the pleasant conditions, and nice rarities, it was a successful trip.

 

 

 

The Human Geography of a Pelagic Birding Boat

Northern Fulmar Santa Monica Bay California

Northern Fulmar

The Human Geography of a Pelagic Birding Boat

I spent a day recently on a pelagic boating trip organized by a cool new non-profit called LA Birders. The boat left out of Marina del Rey, and explored Santa Monica Bay west of Palos Verdes. I’m not convinced Santa Monica Bay offers good odds for successful pelagics. Most of the good sightings in the area seem to come from south/southwest of Point Vicente, or farther out past Catalina Island. Still, we had nice weather and calm-ish seas. We saw a decent variety of species, including Rhinoceros and Cassin’s Auklets, Black-vented and Sooty Shearwater, Northern Fulmar, Common Murre, and Scripps Murrelet. But there were no rarities, no lifers, and overall a very small number of birds. The flock of humans on the boat was bigger than any flock of birds we saw. Going in a boat that apparently had only a single gear, “ploddingly slow,” meant we barely covered more of the ocean than I’ve covered in 3 hour whaling tours. 

Our path around Santa Monica Bay

With all the down time of an 8-hour boat ride through empty patches of sea, I got interested (as I do) in the people around me. There must have been about 50 people on board. It was, naturally, a varied group (of mostly white folks). Many were familiar faces. Some were old timers and some were young(er). A couple guys had lenses that looked more like telescopes. A few were out on their first pelagic. What interested me the most was the gathering of certain kinds of birders in certain parts of the boat. Here’s what I saw:

The Bow – Team eBird (aka Eyes Always Peeled). Situated at the front of the boat, with eyes and lenses at the ready, are the listers. They’re out there because they want to see all the birds. Not only that, many of them want to be the person who spots the birds. There’s no distracting chit chat at the front of the boat (though there’s lots of inside-eBird talk, since many of those at the front of the boat are not just top eBird listers, they’re also eBird reviewers (god bless them for their service)). And there’s no napping up here either. Six hours into the trip, with the boat passing through another nearly birdless section, and with a couple dozen Cassin’s Auklets already seen, the folks at the front of the boat are still calling out excitedly “Cassin’s Auklet at 2 o’clock, 150 yards out and flying away!” This is also where you’ll find the highest concentration of top-notch camera gear. 

The Stern – Team Salty Yarn (aka I’ve Seen All These Birds Before). If you want to hear tales of pelagic trips from around the globe–or, better yet, if you want to tell tales of pelagic trips from around the world–then the stern is the place to be. Back here you’ll find a collection of birders who long ago moved beyond the never-ending county Big Year that Team eBirders at the bow can’t shake, if they ever pursued such an undignified calling in the first place. That said, there isn’t a seabird you can name that the birders back here haven’t seen in numbers on their breeding grounds (on a cruise up in Alaska, or along the coast of Peru, or on a chartered boat in New Zealand or around Laysan). Team Salty Yarn is more casual in their approach, but they’re also more likely to use scientific names for birds than anybody else on the boat. Hot tip: this is also where you’ll find the tupperware full of brownies. The popcorn, however, is strictly for the birds.

Sooty Shearwater Santa Monica Bay California

I spotted this Sooty Shearwater from the stern, the only one of the trip

The Upper Deck – Team Sit (aka Birds are nice, but they aren’t everything). Our boat had an enclosed galley with seating, and a small top deck with space for 6-8 folks to sit. The folks up on the top deck aren’t lazy, or tired. They simply prefer to do their birding while sitting down. They aren’t obsessed with compiling a big list. They aren’t out to get tack sharp close-up photos of the birds. This group is here for the birds, but they’re also here for the ride and the view. And the view is much better up here. Team Sit is also as interested in the whales and mola molas and sharks and dolphins (all of which we saw on the ride) as they are the birds. That is, they’re more well-rounded personalities. This is also where you’ll find the passengers most susceptible to sea sickness, so don’t sit too close if somebody up here looks a little pale.

Moving Around the Boat – Team FOMO (aka Lifers! Lifers!). On the boat are a small number of birders who can’t stay still. Maybe it’s constitutional. More likely, they are zooming from the bow to the stern, from port to starboard, chasing the calls coming from the loudspeaker because they don’t want to miss any birds or photo opportunities. (“Fulmar at 6 o’clock! Alcids at 12:30!”) Some are on their first pelagic. Others have a list of lifers they’re likely to get on this trip, and can’t miss their chance. All share a frantic commitment to see whatever everyone else is seeing. Unlike the folks stationed at the bow, Team FOMO (maybe because they’re newer to the birding game and haven’t gone all-in yet) are more likely to have smaller cameras with less zoom. But don’t confuse that with less interest. Usually the happiest people at the end of the trip are those on Team FOMO. While the rest of us are bummed that we saw so few birds, and didn’t bag a rarity like Short-tailed Shearwater or Brown Booby, these birders saw glorious things they’d never seen before.

Rhinoceros Auklet Santa Monica Bay California

We saw a bunch of Rhinoceros Auklets – this one sporting nice breeding eyebrows

Of course, there are storytellers at the bow, and compulsive listers at the back, and almost everyone took a seat at one time during the long ride. I spent about half of my time at the bow (I’m not ashamed), the other half at the stern (listening, not telling), and the last 30 minutes sitting up top wondering how badly my back was going to hurt the next day from all the standing. As usual, it was great to get out somewhere you don’t normally go and see some good birds.